\"nay, i hāve done; you get no more of me:

and i am glad, yea glad with all my heart,that thus so clearly i myself am free.\"

drayton.

margaret shut herself up in her own room, after she had quitted mrs.

thornton. she began to walk backwards and forwards, in her oldhabitual way of showing agitation; but, then, remembering that in thatslightly-built house every step was heard from one room to another, shesate down until she heard mrs. thornton go safely out of the house. sheforced herself to recollect all the conversation that had passed betweenthem; speech by speech, she pelled her memory to go through withit. at the end, she rose up, and said to herself, in a melancholy tone:

\"at any rate, her words do not touch me; they fall off from me; for i aminnocent of all the motives she attributes to me. but still, it is hard tothink that any one--any woman--can believe all this of another so easily.

it is hard and sad. where i hāve done wrong, she does not accuse me-shedoes not know. he never told her: i might hāve known he wouldnot!\"

she lifted up her head, as if she took pride in any delicacy of feelingwhich mr. thornton had shown. then, as a new thought came acrossher, she pressed her hands tightly together.

\"he, too, must take poor frederick for some lover.\" (she blushed as theword passed through her mind.) \"i see it now. it is not merely that heknows of my falsehood, but he believes that some one else cares for me;and that i----oh dear!--oh dear! what shall i do? what do i mean? whydo i care what he thinks, beyond the mere loss of his good opinion asregards my telling the truth or not? i cannot tell. but i am verymiserable! oh, how unhappy this last year has been! i hāve passed outof childhood into old age. i hāve had no youth--no womanhood; thehopes of womanhood hāve closed for me--for i shall never marry; and ianticipate cares and sorrows just as if i were an old woman, and withthe same fearful spirit. i am weary of this continual call upon me forstrength. i could bear up for papa; because that is a natural, pious duty.

and i think i could bear up against--at any rate, i could hāve the energyto resent, mrs. thornton\"s unjust, impertinent suspicions. but it is hardto feel how pletely he must misunderstand me. what has happenedto make me so morbid to-day? i do not know. i only know i cannot helpit. i must give way sometimes. no, i will not, though,\" said she,springing to her feet. \"i will not--i will not think of myself and my ownposition. i won\"t examine into my own feelings. it would be of no usenow. some time, if i live to be an old woman, i may sit over the fire,and, looking into the embers, see the life that might hāve been.\"

all this time, she was hastily putting on her things to go out, onlystopping from time to time to wipe her eyes, with an impatience ofgesture at the tears that would e, in spite of all her brāvery.

\"i dare say, there\"s many a woman makes as sad a mistake as i hāvedone, and only finds it out too late. and how proudly and impertinentlyi spoke to him that day! but i did not know then. it has e upon melittle by little, and i don\"t know where it began. now i won\"t give way. ishall find it difficult to behāve in the same way to him, with thismiserable consciousness upon me; but i will be very calm and veryquiet, and say very little. but, to be sure, i may not see him; he keepsout of our way evidently. that would be worse than all. and yet nowonder that he āvoids me, believing what he must about me.\"

she went out, going rapidly towards the country, and trying to drown

reflection by swiftness of motion.

as she stood on the door-step, at her return, her father came up:

\"good girl!\" said he. \"you\"ve been to mrs. boucher\"s. i was just meaningto go there, if i had time, before dinner.\"

\"no, papa; i hāve not,\" said margaret, reddening. \"i never thought abouther. but i will go directly after dinner; i will go while you are takingyour nap.